


Hot Mess

by Niki



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Blow Jobs, Canon Disabled Character, Drunk Sex, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Fake One Night Stand, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, First Time, Happy Ending, M/M, Modern AU, Porn, Scheming Steve, Trope Bingo Amnesty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 19:25:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8546101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niki/pseuds/Niki
Summary: “Would serve him right if we had the world's most ill-advised one night stand.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I saw this (already filled) prompt on Tumblr and that gave me a plot bunny that refused to leave me alone. And instead of a short little PWP it became my Marvel Bang story. The beginning comes from a dream I had after trying to plot this story. Title from Cobra Starship: Hot Mess
> 
> Art by Toothpudding/Shivikai/MissStress.
> 
> Beta by Neith.
> 
>  **Trope Bingo Prompt:** Fake Relationship
> 
>  **Warning:** Tony POV is not always the most tactful about stuff, drunk sex can be considered dub-con but there is explicit consent during and after. 
> 
> **Acknowledgments:** Sex scene wouldn't probably ever have been written but for KMFDM and Honey Jack Daniel's.

It's not like Steve had a list or anything, but he had given it a lot of thought. Really, a lot. So he knew exactly what he would say when his two friends finally got their heads out of their asses and realized they could be pretty damn good friends and even better boyfriends. He'd gone through all the scenarios in his head one time or another, so he had thought he was pretty well prepared for any possible situation.

But nowhere on that non-existent list was an appropriate response to a half-naked Tony standing at his room door, hungover, subdued, and vulnerable, asking to borrow his clothes and a ride home.

 

Part 1: You're a Hot Mess  
\------------------------------

 

Tony almost turned back from the door of the bar when he spotted Steve and saw the bastard was not alone – as he had _sworn_ he was going to be, that his asshole other-best friend wasn't going to be there _this_ time to crash their time together. Only the fact Steve had sounded so excited about his news kept him walking. That, and the sour expression growing on Barnes's face – if he could make the man's day worse by just existing, well, that wasn't a bad thing.

Still, he detoured via the bar to down a double whiskey and take another with him. No way was he looking at that bastard's face stone cold sober. 

“Tony! You made it!” Why did Steve always have to look so goddamn guileless and happy to see him when he tried to hold on to his righteous anger.

“As did Barnes, I see,” he said, but he was already sitting down on the free seat round their corner table.

At least Steve had the grace to look a little embarrassed about that. 

“Yeah, I know I said... but I had to share this with both of you as soon as possible!”

“Share _what_ , punk?” Barnes asked, in a voice that conveyed the fact he'd been trying to get a reply to that for a while now. Ha, at least Steve hadn't shared whatever it was with his oldest friend before Tony, which, yes, he was being petty, but suck on _that_ , Barney.

Somehow the seemingly guileless boy-next-door managed to milk his revelation through a few drinks and by then Tony had pretty much given up on his idea to just listen to the announcement and bail out in five minutes. 

“Okay... I understand this will seem really underwhelming to you after all this build up but...” and the bastard even stopped to draw a deep breath, “It's a big thing for me so... You remember that gallery that hosted our school's final exhibition last year? I have been asked to return with a solo exhibition!”

No, that _was_ huge, and Tony had to fight with Barnes over the right to hug the big lug first. It ended up being a huge pile of limbs for a moment and Tony had _never_ wanted to get that close to Mr Dark and Broody's muscled arms (seriously, he was pretty sure even his prosthetic arm had muscles) and warm skin aaand moving on. 

“Congratulations!” Barnes looked much less annoying when his face was shining with happiness for his friend and Tony was sure his own smile was as wide and goofy.

“When did you find out?”

“What are you going to do?”

They asked their questions at the same time but for once forgot to fight over the right to get answered first.

“Just got back from a meeting, it's official now so... We discussed themes but I don't... portraits, maybe? I'm a little all over the place still.”

“We need champagne!” Tony declared and got up.

“But it's going to be really expensive,” Steve said, expectedly, but hello, Tony Stark.

He got a bottle, and even got a glass for Barnes. The man could drink his bubbly and keep his mouth shut. He even managed to cadge a candle from the bartender to make it a little more festive. The woman probably thought they were celebrating an engagement or something, and Tony briefly wondered which two she'd cast as the happy couple. 

After he returned to their table and poured them all a glass, and Barnes had glared suspiciously at his, they toasted, and Tony had just re-filled their glasses when Steve dug up his phone. 

“Hey, it's Peggy, I gotta... I'll go take this outside, be back in a minute.”

Tony looked after him amused over his attempts to get through the growing crown towards the door and took another sip. Fucking Crystal, but what could one expect in a dive bar like this the boys from Brooklyn frequented. 

Steve was taking a while, which, yeah okay, probably wasn't a surprise if he was sharing the news with the girlfriend – Peggy was still in Europe – but it was still a bit rude to leave him alone with Barnes for an extended period of time.

He shot a look towards the other man from the corner of his eye. Bucky was frowning and staring at his champagne glass.

“It's not gonna bite you, _Bucky_.”

“Only my friends call me that, motherfucker.”

“What, also those who haven't known you since you were five? That's your real grown-up name?” 

“Choke on a dick, Stark.”

“You wish.”

They traded a few more insults, and got so into it it took Tony almost fifteen minutes to realize Steve wasn't back. No way he'd spent more than five on the phone with Peggy to Europe, not on his paycheck.

He turned to look at the door and the bar, expecting to see the blond giant somewhere, because he'd never be so rude as to leave Tony alone with...

“Son of a bitch,” he said, turning to look at Barnes in horror.

“What?”

“Steve,” he said, as if that would explain everything, and dammit, couldn't the other man see the obvious when it was staring at his stupidly perfect face.

“What are you on... oh no.”

“Oh yes.”

“Goddammit, punk,” Barnes muttered, then glared at Tony. “He could be in trouble.”

“Don't see you getting up to go after him.”

They stared at each other in silence for almost a minute, both knowing perfectly well what was going on.

“He's still trying to force us to make nice.”

“What? He's trying to hook us up!” Tony exclaimed, staring pointedly at the bottle of champagne and the fucking candle.

“The bubbly was all you, Stark,” Barnes said, but there was a surprising lack of hostility in his voice, maybe even a grin hiding under the snark and oh no, that was the absolute last thing Tony needed. 

And still he grinned back, instead of the smirk he knew could drive Barnes up the wall in seconds flat. 

“Would serve him right if we had the world's most ill-advised one night stand.”

Barnes's face lightened up like that was the best idea he'd ever heard – and okay, Tony would be the first to agree his ideas were all good, but that still wasn't the reaction he'd expected.

“Totally! We should totally fake the loudest sex ever, right next to his fucking bedroom,” Barnes said, and yes. Yes. 

“And then have the awkwardest morning after that means we can never see each other again,” Tony elaborated, and filled their glasses with more Crystal.

They toasted their plan, sharing ever-so-slightly malicious smiles, and drained the glasses.

“I think we need more alcohol before we can pull this off without ruining it by laughing,” Barnes decided, and got up to go to the bar. “You want something pretentious like whiskey, don't you?”

“I can deal with Jack. I am _not_ drinking vodka.” And maybe it was odd that he knew Barnes's drinking habits but Steve _was_ a good friend whom he wasn't about to lose even if he came with groupies.

“Nothing gets you drunk quite as efficiently as vodka,” Barnes said with a grin.

“If you're into efficiency, you should soak a tampon in it and stuff it in your ass,” Tony replied.

“I'm going to pretend you didn't say that.”

“And here I was hoping you'd make a suggestion of a better thing to stuff in your ass.”

“You wish, Stark.” But somehow, this repetition of the exact words from earlier lacked the heat, replacing it with... well, another kind of heat. This was either a _really_ good plan, or really, really, really bad.

* * *

Barnes was _hilarious_. When his effort was not going to eviscerating Tony and his way of life, he was actually pretty good company. Their “more alcohol” turned into a few rounds... and then a few rounds more... and then they were stumbling towards the apartment Barnes shared with Steve, leaning on each other, Barnes's intact arm around Tony's shoulders.

“So, which do you prefer I yell, Bucky or James?”

“Bucky. Everyone really does call me Bucky.”

“I can work with that. Bucky. Just as long as you make it 'Tony' – Stark always makes me think of my dad, and no, just, no.”

Bucky tested it out immediately, and whispered “Tony” right next to his ear, and that sent a shiver down Tony's body, and this was a bad, bad, bad idea... but damn he felt good, and damn their plan, if he tried simulating sex with this man his body would get so fucking confused...

“I do have one amendment to suggest for our plan though...” Tony said when they reached the door.

“Yeah?”

“Instead of pretending... we should just _have_ loud sex.” He could blame the alcohol, he could take it if Bucky took offense...

“Oh thank God!”

* * *

Bucky tasted of vodka, burning on his tongue, hot and wet and eager and why the fuck hadn't they been kissing already? Tony could drown on those kisses, searing him through his mouth down his skin, feeling it down in his toes, and he was hard already, just from _kissing_ , but it was okay, because Bucky was grinding against him, just as hard, his flesh and blood hand down on Tony's ass, pulling him even closer. The prosthetic one was around his waist, Tony's own hands were in Bucky's hair, on his back, down his ass, pulling his shirt up, up, so he could get to that skin, oh god, hot skin, smooth in spots, raised in scars in others, and it was all hot.

He tore his mouth off the other man's to mouth his neck, licking the slightly bitter sweat of a long night in a bar, grabbing his shirt with both fists... Bucky was breathing fast, like they'd run all the way from the bar, gasping for breath in time of Tony's nips on his neck, which hell yeah awesome but...

“You're not quite loud enough,” he whispered into Bucky's ear, and he made the words a promise, letting his right hand slide down from Bucky's chest to the front of his jeans, squeezing slightly.

Bucky moaned quietly.

“Better,” Tony said, lips still against his ear, then bit the lobe before twirling his tongue in the ear, both as a promise of what he could do with it, as well as for its own sake because fuck were ears sensitive.

Then he dropped unceremoniously on his knees, hands on Bucky's hips, grabbing into the jeans for balance – there _had_ been quite a few drinks, and he was possibly not quite as graceful as he would have wished. He also had to swallow the extra saliva in his mouth because damn but he was hot for this – never in a million years would he have expected to end this evening on his knees for this man of everyone in the world... yet he couldn't quite picture who he'd rather have there with him.

“Tony,” Bucky was saying, and no, not acceptable, that was not moaning his name. Hands in his hair, better, not tugging, so most likely not against his plan. Good. Because they'd promised loud sex, and he _needed_ to take Bucky apart, right now.

He had to be careful when lowering the zip because the other man was _straining_ against it, and damn did he fill his jeans nicely. Gasp, as he finally got Bucky's cock free, hand around the root, moan as he licked the tip – also bitter, and he wished he had some whiskey to sip because Bucky seemed like the kind of guy who'd appreciate the extra edge with his blow jobs.

And then, without warning, he swallowed as much as he could, and there was the howl – he could vaguely remember there had been a goal beyond just the joy of making the man moan out loud.

“Tony! Fuck, fuck, Tony, perrrfeeeect...”

He came up for air, keeping his tongue on the smooth underside, tracing the veins, throbbing... yeah, throbbing was a good word, great word – very evocative – throbbing was good. Then he closed his mouth around the tip, and sucked and sucked, deeper and then up again, until his name disappeared into moans, until every exhale from the other man was a moan, pained, loud, so damn fucking hot.

He got so into it – he _loved_ giving head to someone as sensitive as Bucky, someone who got so into it, and looked so gorgeous, eyes closed tight like in pain, mouth open in a continuous moan, fingers in his hair, not pulling, just grabbing, harder than (hah! Harder!) he probably would like when sober... Anyway, he got so into it he was ignoring his own aching erection, their goal, everything but the gorgeous, _throbbing_ cock in his mouth, his right hand still around the base, his left resting against Bucky's hip, feeling the tremors going through the other man as he attempted to remain upright.

“Tony, baby, stop, please, oh, oh, damn, stop, I can't, gonna come...” The hands were more insistent now, tugging in his hair until he raised his head.

“That's the idea, sweetheart,” Tony said, grinning and licking the excess moisture off his lower lip, and Bucky seemed to forget what he was about to say, staring at his mouth.

“Not yet, not... too drunk for more than one... not yet.” He shook his head, then gave Tony the filthiest grin he'd ever seen. “Haven't gotten to touch you at all yet.”

“What did you have in mind?” Tony asked with his own grin, leaning back, still on his knees.

His hand was still around the other man's cock, though – no one could say Stark let go of a good thing when he found it. Still, the break was enough to remind them of where they were and why they were there. They glanced at the door to Steve's room, _right there_ , they'd stopped in exactly the right spot for their plan even though obviously neither one of them had really been thinking about it when they basically fell into the apartment. It had taken Bucky a few tries to fit the key into the lock, and when he finally got the door open, they were in the middle of their first kiss (filthiest, dirtiest, best first kiss in the history of ever), and pretty much fell in, and just stumbled to the first wall.

Simultaneously, they burst in laughter, and Tony let go of Bucky's cock in favor of standing up to gather the taller man into a hug so that he giggled drunkenly against his chest, but it was okay, because Bucky was giggling too, mouth in Tony's hair, and they were holding each other up. Tony's head was spinning, whether from the alcohol, or the fucking brilliant blow job (if he did say so himself), or the fact all of his blood was currently trying to fit into his own dick.

“I've got a room,” Bucky gasped out, in the middle of their chuckles. “It's got a bed and everything.”

“Take your word for it,” Tony said against his neck, having moved his face up to lick the skin again, distracting him from the laughter.

“Come on, babe.”

 

* * *

“Clothes, clothes, too many clothes,” Bucky chanted, as if he'd forget to undress otherwise, except, oh, huh – not his own he was worried about, his hands were on Tony's t-shirt, trying to pull it up.

“Wait, wait, wait!”

Bucky stopped in his efforts, looking at him with a frown, like he couldn't understand why Tony wouldn't let him divest him of it.

“If it breaks, I'll have to borrow a shirt from Steve in the morning.”

Bucky brightened instantly, immediately on board with the plan and holy HELL it was hot as all fuck to watch and feel him tearing the cloth like it was paper. Part of it was the prosthesis, Tony _knew_ the torque the arm was capable of, but part of it was the delicious, delicious muscles contracting and bulging on his flesh and blood arm and Tony wanted to lick _both_ of them.

“Would, uh,” he had to clear his throat. “Would like to keep the jeans though. In tact. Would love to keep the jeans intact.”

“Uh huh,” Bucky replied, busy removing his own shirt while Tony unbuttoned the tight, tight, too damn tight pants and kicked them off... only then realizing boots would have to come off first and toed them off not caring about the way they scraped and hurt because he wasn't about to attempt bending down to open the laces and then all the thoughts disappeared because Bucky was naked, gloriously, stunningly naked, his muscles as fucking nice as Tony had always feared, the muscular thighs just the kind he'd _love_ to have wrapped around him, and... why was he stopping, why was he looking so... oh. 

The other man, naked and still hard, his cock glistening with Tony's spit and precome, was staring down, or at his arm, looking way more distanced from the situation than he should, maybe even hesitant and why the hell was he looking _shy_? 

Oh. The arm. The state of the art _Stark_ prosthesis. It was formed like the one he was born with, but still obviously a later addition. It was the myoelectric model, moving when the remaining muscles in the upper arm moved, and Tony was working with the lab technicians to widen the range of motion, aiming for finger control, and he knew they offered paint jobs, so the gleaming silver was a bit of a surprise, but he _loved_ it, it fit the other man, and fuck but he was coming down from the sex high way too fucking soon.

He touched the prosthetic hand, grabbing it to hold against his own erection, still encased in his boxer briefs, and yes, Bucky got with the program, closing the hand against his erection and it felt real enough to Tony. He met Bucky's eyes, then tapped the fingers of his right hand against the scars on his own chest.

“Pacemaker,” he said, voice wavering because not even _Steve_ knew that, not general knowledge that the Stark heir wasn't physically perfect, had been born damaged. His dad had guarded the secret as jealously as his designs, and had instilled in his son the same need to keep it hidden, keep it quiet, because no one would treat him the same, everyone would think him fragile, would know he wasn't perfect, would be disappointed, like his father had been, and still was. And he couldn't believe he'd revealed that to this man, just to see the insecurity disappear from his eyes.

Bucky's eyes followed his hand, then met his own again, and the look... this was getting way more complicated than a fake one night stand very fucking fast, and then the man leaned in for a kiss unlike any they'd shared before – seriously, he was naked, his hand was on Tony's dick and yet he kissed him like, like something fragile, no, no, no, no, this wasn't what he... he opened his own mouth, running his tongue against Bucky's lips until he opened up, met his tongue with his own, and yeah, that was more like it, but it was still... it was still... different. Not any less hot, and the hand was moving on his cock now, slow up-down movement that had Tony whimpering into the kiss.

Different. Different didn't need to be bad. He tried taking a step towards the unmade bed right behind them, and Bucky moved back, still as responsive to his every movement as when he'd had his dick in his mouth, and then they were tumbling on the bed, laughing again, thank god, the laughter was back, their lips separating when the Lady Gravity took her due, and then Bucky was wiggling up the bed, and Tony moved with him, and it made their bodies slide and grind against each other in all the best ways and then there was more kissing. Naked kissing. Naked, _horizontal_ kissing, fucking _finally_.

He would have _loved_ to fuck Bucky. Or get fucked – he wasn't choosy. But he knew they weren't exactly in a condition for anything that elaborate. So he pulled his head up to meet Bucky's eyes – and got instantly distracted by his moist, red, swollen lips, so that he had to kiss him again, _bite_ that perfect lower lip before he remembered his goal again, and grinned.

“You gonna scream for me again?” he asked, before – not quite gracefully – making his way back down his body, licking and sucking on the inviting flesh on the way, getting momentarily distracted by his flat stomach because fuck he loved the shape, loved the way it quivered when he licked the skin... before making his way back down to his goal. 

Bucky looked so hard it had to be painful – his own erection was, and he got distracted every time he moved and slid against yet another part of Bucky's anatomy, right now he was pressing it against his legs and fuck if he didn't want to start humping him like a fucking puppy.

“Our walls... surprisingly thick,” Bucky gasped out. “Would have to... ohhh... scream... to be heard.”

Heard? Oh, right, the plan. Steve. Bucky was being way too coherent, so Tony unceremoniously went back to the sucking, running the fingers of his right hand over his balls, testing his tolerance for it – some guys were too sensitive down there to make it enjoyable but Bucky just arched into the touches and moaned louder. 

Tony raised his head and freed his mouth for long enough to ask, “Lube?” before returning to the task at hand... mouth... whatever.

“Stop distracting me,” Bucky said, trying to twist towards his bed side table.

Tony let go of him with a put upon sigh and Bucky laughed, sitting up to rummage through the drawer before handing over the tube with a kiss which Tony took control of immediately – or at least tried, because the other man was giving as good as he was getting, and for a while they seemed to forget what they were doing, concentrating on just the slide of their tongues, the taste of their mouths, the small gasps swallowed instantly by the other.

Tony pulled back when the need to breathe became unbearable, and rested his forehead against Bucky's. He had a distracting feeling they were doing something really, really dangerous, but the thoughts refused to form a coherent idea so he dipped his head low again to lick all the skin that was _right there_ , and the taste and texture were addictive. Bucky dipped his head to the side obediently, his arms winding around Tony again, and pulling him forward until their chests were flush and _warm_ and _there_ and so very distracting.

“Did you have some plans for that lube?” Bucky asked in a rough whisper against his ear, and again it made Tony shiver down to his _toes_ because _yes_.

Screw being too drunk. “I wanna fuck you. Can I fuck you?”

“Fuck yes. Fuck. Yes.”

“Condoms?” 

Bucky groaned, and moved to the same drawer again. The pack was unopened, unlike the lube that was obviously used, and there was a joke to be made about that but Tony had never felt less inclined to insult this man. He reached for the box, but Bucky knocked his hand aside gently and opened it himself. His fingers weren't really up to a really sensitive work but the other hand was more dexterous, and soon he was rolling a condom down Tony's hard, hard cock and Tony wanted to reach down, hold his hand around Bucky's covering him, because it felt so, so good, and he was dying for some relief. But no, no, no, there was something _much_ better coming and he was damned if he was coming before buried under to the _hilt_ in this gorgeous, gorgeous man.

He pushed Bucky to lie down again, gently, on his back, his blue, blue eyes meeting his, and fuck but he had kiss him again, because just for the moment the vulnerability was back, and there was no room for hesitation now, and he wanted to see _nothing_ on that face that was not mindless pleasure.

He made the kiss filthy, open-mouthed and wet, with a little more than a hint of teeth, while running his hands over his torso, following the lines of his muscles with his fingers, scratching lightly down his back, making Bucky curve against him with the movement, and moan into the kiss, and that was better, that was the mood he wanted. 

Not the only thing he wanted, oh no, and he started kissing his way down again, blindly groping for the lube he'd dropped at some point. It was pure luck he found it, as he was unable to tear his eyes off the skin under his hands and mouth, the scars doing nothing to detract from the beauty of the form. Damn, if he'd known his clothes hid this... well, he'd still have been just as obnoxious, but maybe a little jealous. Envious. Or distracted.

But now there was no need, because – if only for the night – this was his. His to touch, his to kiss, his to mark and possess, and he was going to do _just_ that.

* * *

The lube was cheap and unscented, Bucky would have deserved so much better, but Tony was very, very good at working with what he had in hand, so he coated his fingers liberally in the stuff, testing its properties by rubbing his fingers against each other. Bit moist, but viscous enough, and when he ran his hand gently up and down Bucky's cock, it slid easily enough, and he tightened his fist slowly. When Bucky started moaning again, and arching into the movement, he grinned, deciding it would do. 

He let his hand slide down Bucky's cock, over his balls, tracing the taint to get to the puckered entrance into his body, letting his unlubed hand knead the muscular form of his ass. Tight, but so relaxed he needed no tricks to fit the first knuckle of his finger in, and the tiny movement of that one finger was enough to make Bucky tremble, and moan, and fuck he was so sensitive, so responsive, that Tony would have been content to just do this, and watch him come apart in his hands. Maybe one day he would, and the thought was enough to make him speed up, working the finger in as deep as he could, twisting and spreading the lube as thoroughly as he could before adding his middle finger, slowly, carefully making his way smooth, ignoring the hard, glistening cock bobbing next to his face, leaning his face against Bucky's trembling thigh, and yes, he so, so, so wanted to feel those thighs against his waist, was gonna take the man just like this, on his back, so he could drown in those blue, blue eyes, and draw those filthy, wonderful, arousing moans out of him.

It took him a while to realize there were words behind and around those moans – his name, but also, “come on, come on, I'm ready, come on.” Tony had gotten so distracted by giving Bucky pleasure he hadn't even paid attention to his goal. The other man was loose now, his fingers – three of them – were moving in and out easily, smoothly, and he was ready, he was _ready_.

“Can you,” he asked, stopping to gasp as his cock rubbed against Bucky's legs as he moved. “Like this?” He pushed up on his knees, pulling those lovely, lovely thighs against him, bringing the unlubed hand to his chest, and Bucky nodded, bending, twisting, moving until his ass was as up as he could get on his back, bracing his arms behind him, grabbing the metal headboard of his bed with both hands, and even now the metal arm drew Tony's attention, catching the light of the street lights from outside the window.

He moved his own hand to Bucky's hip, helping him keep balanced, while the other one guided his cock against the smooth, most, quivering hole, and finally, finally, pushed home. 

Bucky threw his head back and _screamed_ , as Tony hit his prostate with the first thrust, and the whole bed slammed against the wall, and there was something about the noise? Something he ought to remember, but it wasn't important, couldn't be, not compared to how this felt, how Bucky looked in that moment, the sweat glistening on his arched neck, and Tony tested his flexibility to its limits by bending to _bite_ that long, inviting neck. Bucky screamed again, and Tony could feel his own thighs starting to tremble from the effort.

He straightened, and with both of his hands on Bucky's hips, started to _thrust_. It was enough to make his own breaths loud as moans, and he kept hitting the spot that made Bucky shout out loud, and it was all so intense he knew it couldn't last long, but he wanted it to, wanted to stay in that moment forever, because nothing, ever, had felt as right, as good, as intense.

When Bucky tensed, his back arching towards the ceiling, towards Tony, he shouted again, a wordless yell as he trembled and came, all over his chest, over Tony, with neither one of them even touching his cock, and the splash of hot liquid on his skin make Tony's movements turn erratic, and he thrust deep, deeper, deeper, and he was coming too, with his own moan, and Bucky was moaning too, only Tony's grip still keeping him up, his body limp and hands letting go of the headboard, falling on the bed. 

He kept thrusting small movements as he came, and came, and it had been a while, a while since Pepper, even a while since Ty, and had either one of them ever made him feel like this? He gasped for breath, wanting nothing more than slump down on top of the sated body in front of him, but he was careful withdrawing, holding the top of the condom with one hand, bracing the other against Bucky, and he should say something, should offer to clean them up but he was exhausted, so tired, so he just lay down, almost fell, half on top of the other man, and Bucky turned to look at him, his reddened lips twisting into an exhausted smile, and Tony had to kiss it, one more time.

It was light, fucking _tender_ , but it was that kind of a moment, and Tony smiled back, letting his head fall down on the pillow, right next to Bucky, and then he closed his eyes and felt the fuzziness of fast approaching sleep.

 

Part 2: And I'm Falling for You  
\------------------------------------

 

Bucky woke up to a weird feeling of mixed contentment and discomfort and like he should remember something very important. 

Nausea, definitely. Headache, dry mouth... hangover. Sore body, itchy skin... sex. Sex. Tony.

His eyes shot open when he recognized the warmth of another body in his bed, next to him but not touching. Tony. Still here. Asleep, by the looks of it, and looking distractingly good in his bed. 

Tony, who had surprised him last night, because if you had asked him last week, last month, he'd have predicted Tony would be a selfish lover, or just plain bad in bed, because his attitude _had_ to be compensating for something but... nope, all warranted. 

Yet it wasn't just that either, it was the _joy_ and closeness they'd shared, and it was way too fucking early for this, and he really, really needed to piss.

Bucky got up from the bed gingerly, trying not to wake Tony because he wasn't ready for that confrontation yet. He had no idea what to think about anything, but he wished like hell the other man would not make him regret last night because it had been so _good_ , like nothing else ever, intense like “holy shit I'm alive!” sex of soldiers, intimate like a long relationship, fun and hot and... 

He emptied his bladder, grateful again for the weird layout of their apartment that gave both him and Steve their own en suite bathrooms, then drank cold water directly from the tap to quench the raging thirst. He considered toothpaste for a second, because the taste of dead cat in his mouth was not endearing, but the mere idea of its strong minty taste made his stomach rebel.

Resting his hands against the sink he finally raised his eyes to the mirror and instantly noted the hickeys decorating his neck and chest. It had been _some_ night, and if it was going to be awkward, the reminder of the bite marks was going to be...

“Hey,” said a hoarse voice from the door, and when he turned to look he saw Tony, still naked, with his own marks – including dried come on his stomach – leaning against the doorjamb, looking unconscious of his state of undress. “Mind if I...?” He pointed towards the toilet, and Bucky straightened, pushing away from the sink.

“Go ahead.”

Then he walked back to his bedroom because what the hell else was he going to do. Stay and watch?

He was distractedly rubbing the spot where the prosthetic arm connected to his stump when Tony came back.

“Shit, we never took your arm off last night,” Tony said, and for just a second Bucky _loved_ him for the casualness of it, for his matter-of-fact tone. And that _we_.

He didn't reach for him to help, only seemed to look at Bucky expectantly, but he seldom took the arm off when it was just _Steve_ , how could he... but Tony was looking at the arm, then raised his hand to run it over the Stark Industries logo on it, a casual movement, like they were this physical and this _close_ all the time, and... maybe they were, now? Maybe they could be?

“If the studies about osseointegration turn well, in the future you might not ever need to take it off,” Tony said, casually. “I'm already working on an improved version with a lighter alloy that...”

“You?” Bucky couldn't stop himself, that was _not_ what he'd been expecting.

“Don't sound so incredulous! I work.” 

Bucky very carefully did not say a word as yeah, maybe he'd been content to dismiss Tony Stark as the idle rich in the past. The distant past of last evening.

“Since when have you been working on prostheses?” Bucky couldn't help but ask, forgetting for a moment they were standing naked in his bedroom, their bodies littered with evidence of their activities last night, forgetting it was _awkward as hell_ to be standing there naked in his bedroom, their bodies littered with evidence of their activities last night.

“Well...” Tony looked directly into his eyes, then away. “You see, I have this really good friend, Steve. And a little while ago his best friend went and got his arm blown off overseas, and then we started doing research on the available tech and by god it was depressing, even our own department was content with thinking small. So I looked into the trials going on about biofeedback and implanted electrodes for better control and, well...” He gestured at Bucky's arm instead of finishing the sentence with words.

“I found others willing to think outside the box, and we're financing that study into permanent attachment with osseointegration, and even a study about electrodes in the brain. That's going to take a while though as it's not even in the human testing phase.”

“But... for me? You couldn't stand me!”

“Well, for Steve's friend. Of course, then you showed up and it turned out you were an asshole, but the work was benefiting other vets too, and making Stark Industries' name in a new field, and my dad forgot to be disappointed in me for almost a week! So, hey, win either way, right?”

And here was this man, whom he'd thought the most self-centered, showy bastard wasting his brain and privilege, talking down his incredible generosity and genius like they were flaws. Bucky's prosthesis had been _free_ because he took part in a trial, and he'd thought it was Steve's doing, or random chance because he was a veteran.

“Why didn't you tell me? Throw it in my face when I was being horrible to you?” But of course he knew why. Because Tony Stark was, despite his flaws – and those were many, he wasn't as deep as to ignore those – a good man, who didn't go for actual weak spots. He wasn't a bully. Bucky had always known that, because if he hadn't, he'd have made damn sure Steve never saw the man again in his life.

He had to kiss Tony. He _had_ to. And if the other man wanted to throw that reaction into his face, then maybe he'd earned it.

Tony didn't. He opened his mouth with alacrity which belied the epic morning breath they must both be sporting, and the dead cat which the water had hardly dislodged from Bucky's mouth. 

Bucky forgot about his arm again, just wrapped them both around the shorter man, pulling him close, closer, flush against his skin, and last night he'd felt like he never needed to have sex again, but he was desperate for it now, and Tony's hands were down on his ass, squeezing, _kneading_ , and he was hard, Tony was hard, there was a bed _right there_ , and with that thought he pushed, and Tony yielded, and then they were falling, as graceless as last night, but there was no laughter now, just desperate _grinding_ , the search for the perfect angle, the perfect pressure, the perfect speed, and they kept kissing, sloppy and graceless, saliva and hot breaths mixing as they kissed, and kissed, and rubbed against each other until he felt Tony pause, jerk, come all over his crotch with a high keening noise and then he was following, the slick provided by the other man's come making the last few thrusts easier, faster...

And then they were holding each other through the aftershocks, the slight tremor of over-sensitized skin, gasping for breath. His headache was gone, as was the nausea, all hail endorphins, all hail what ever it was that sex released in your body, best hangover cure _ever_ , and also great as an avoider of the awkward.

“So about the phase two of our plan,” Tony said, while Bucky was still trying to collect his thoughts, and Bucky could _feel_ his stomach plummet because of course this had been for a reason and fuck but he'd forgotten. Could they really let this be it? Had the closeness he'd felt been one-sided? 

He raised his head to meet Tony's eyes and the man was grinning now.

“I propose another amendment to the plan,” Tony went on, still grinning, and only yesterday that grin would have made Bucky want to punch the guy, but this morning, right now, it just made him want to return it, or taste it. “We see how much sex we can keep on having while pretending to avoid each other like the plague.”

“You're on,” Bucky said, knowing his own grin was relieved, and not giving a damn. Even after last night he would have hesitated to leave himself so vulnerable but after this morning... and he wasn't thinking about the morning sex either, but the gentle fingers running over his prosthetic arm. “You're so on.”

* * *

“That was the most awkward walk of shame ever,” Tony said in lieu of a greeting when Bucky answered his call.

“I find that hard to believe,” Bucky said, but couldn't help the grin on his face. Tony had called. Tony had called an _hour_ after he'd left.

“It was _Steve_!”

“I think Steve knows what sex is.”

“I sure hope so, having seen Peggy. But no, he just... he looked so...”

“Shocked? Ashamed?”

“I don't even know. He didn't say a word when he gave me a shirt or in the car. I have to admit, I was staring dejectedly out of the window, huddled into his humongous hoodie – I swear, sweetheart, it was an Oscar-worthy performance...”

“You keep telling yourself that, darling.”

“Oscar-worthy performance of dejected sadness. So maybe he was too ashamed to talk. Did he say anything to you?”

“I avoided his eyes while we were in the kitchen at the same time, but I think he looked at the hickeys on my neck and flinched.”

“So my plan was perfect.”

“Oh, now it's your plan.”

“Of course, all my plans are great, and all the great plans are mine.” Before Bucky could even think of taking offense, he went on: “And speaking of great plans, when can we meet again?”

“When do you want to meet?”

“Now? Soon? Tonight?” There was no undue eagerness in his actual tone despite the words, they were delivered lightly, as a joke, but with real intent, and there was a part of Bucky that had the giddy 'he wants to see me again!' spark going on.

“Steve will be here all day, I think.”

“You could come to my place.”

It was bound to be fancy, and Bucky hesitated – it was one thing to be with the man in his own shabby rooms, but would the allure disappear if the other man saw him in his own luxurious surroundings?

“I have a bed,” Tony offered in a sing-song voice, and Bucky found himself laughing, not because it was that funny, but because of the reminder of the previous night, and maybe a little relief that the other man was as eager to see him.

“I'll be there.”

* * *

It wasn't as bad as he'd expected. Well, he hadn't expected it to be _bad_ , just intimidating. Tony buzzed him into the building, and he didn't have a penthouse or anything, just a large flat somewhere high, but the elevator was the same elevator the everyone else in the building used, and there were no gilded decorations in the corridors, or doormen.

When Tony opened his door, for a moment Bucky could only see him, his face, the smile almost relieved, and he didn't know what to do, to kiss him, or to greet him, and then Tony was laughing and pulling him indoors by his hand, and it was going to be okay.

“Hi,” he said, and leaned in for that kiss.

“Hi,” Tony replied against his lips, and who the fuck cared if the apartment was filled with fancy schmancy art and jewels, Tony had said there was a bed, but he'd take a sofa, any reasonably soft horizontal surface would do, and maybe he said that aloud, or then they just were fully at the same wavelength because now Tony was laughing against his lips, into the kiss, and pulling him by the hand he was still holding.

“Yeah, I have a bed,” he said, walking backwards, then stopping. “No, wait, do you want a drink? A tour?”

“Sex,” Bucky decided, nipping his lips. “Tour later.”

* * *

There was no fancy schmancy art, or jewels, only the electronics were ostentatiously, outrageously expensive. The TV was huge, the stereo system looked like a designer product, and it wasn't like the furniture were IKEA, but the sofa table had metal parts and wires strewn over it, and the kitchen counter had blueprints – at least they looked like what Bucky assumed blueprints looked like – and there was something that looked like a tiny robot running over the floors.

“Oh, right, that's Dummy. I figured a cat was too much work.”

“A _cat_ was too much work?”

“I sometimes forget to feed myself. Cats need food.”

“So you got a robot?”

“So I built a robot.”

“Of course you built a robot. What does it do?”

“Dummy? He's mostly useless, and runs into things. Sometimes he's good for a game of catch.”

Bucky wasn't sure if Tony meant to reveal as much with the idle conversation but for him it just sounded like Tony was lonely a lot, and had wanted another presence in his home. 

“You hungry?” Tony asked, gesturing towards the kitchen.

“I should probably get home sooner rather than later,” Bucky replied, wondering if his voice sounded as reluctant as he felt.

“What did you tell Steve?” 

“He's not my keeper, you know. I just told him I'm going out.”

“All broodily?” Tony asked gleefully, and Bucky grinned.

“Naturally. I had to be dejected over our disastrous night, and broody keeps him from asking questions.”

“Good alibi. How about tomorrow?”

“I can keep brooding tomorrow too.”

“I mean, can you sneak out?”

“Not my keeper,” Bucky reminded glibly, but Tony looked very serious now.

“Bucky. Do you want to come over?” he asked, like it was the most important question ever, and what the hell was he supposed to say to that?

“Of course I do.”

* * *

Tony did have his work, and Bucky his own crappy one which left him exhausted and despondent, so they couldn't meet quite every day, and on the days Bucky had been working he really wasn't up to sex, so he kept refusing to meet up.

Tony finally figured out the reason for it after a few weeks. “You do know we don't need to have sex every time,” he said, carefully, during their nightly phone call.

Bucky swallowed. That was... yeah, that was something different from their early arrangement. Fuck buddies, not friends, not... boyfriends.

Then again, they talked every evening on the phone. And exchanged texts during the day. And it wasn't just phone sex either. Tony ranted about stupid underlings who stubbornly refused to accept his wilder visions as applicable, and Bucky bitched about customers. They talked about their families, their pasts, and sometimes, waking up from a nightmare, Bucky would find a text message from Tony – something mundane, like a photo of Dummy, who had somehow managed to get stuck under the fridge – and it was enough to distract him enough that he'd managed to fall back asleep.

But when they met they instantly fell into bed. Or a sofa. Or any conveniently horizontal surface that was close enough.

“We can just hang out,” Tony went on when Bucky didn't reply, then paused, sounding endearingly unsure. “Right? Or not. I guess we don't need to, if you just want to...”

“Yeah, alright.”

“Alright what?”

“Alright, we can hang.”

“My place? Or... do you want to go grab a bite somewhere?” It was so casual, so very carefully casual that Tony _had_ to know what he was asking.

Bucky could feel his mouth going dry. This was so very much not what their arrangement had been about. And he wasn't sure if that was a bad thing. Fuck buddies was easy. Sex was just sex. Fuck buddies didn't lead to broken hearts and... and who the fuck was he even thinking he was kidding? 

“Like... a date?” he had to ask, had to clarify this, had to make sure he wasn't alone in this stupid, scary, emotional mess.

“No? Unless, maybe you... yes? Yeah, maybe? It could be. We could be...”

“Yeah, yes. We could be. Dating. And stuff.”

 

Part 3: You Know What to Do  
\-----------------------------------

 

Tony picked Bucky up after his shift and pretty much poured him into the shower. He hated the way the other man was after work – exhausted on a deeper level than just physical, despondent, and he could do so much better if he only... Bucky was so much smarter than he'd ever realized, even though of course he'd known he wasn't completely hopeless as he could keep up with Tony's insults and needling before... before this, before knowing what he tasted like, or what he sounded like when he came, before getting to – or wanting to – know him.

“You should quit your job,” is what came out of his mouth when Bucky exited the shower.

Bucky just blinked at him for a moment, then looked away, hand twisting the towel he was holding in front of him. 

“You don't need to pick me up, I don't want to trouble you when I'm too tired to even be any entertainment.”

“Whoa, wait, now – darling, I don't keep you around for entertainment! I mean... I hate seeing what it does to you.”

“It pays the rent,” Bucky said, still looking away.

“You know I could...”

“I don't think being your kept man is quite what I want on my resume either.”

Tony frowned, but then noticed Bucky was grinning. Tiredly, but grinning nonetheless.

“I could hire you to lounge around my place looking gorgeous. Full medical and dental benefits,” he suggested, taking a step closer.

“Just to look pretty?” Bucky asked, raising his head to look at him, and dropped the towel on the floor.

“I think I'd prefer anything else happening to be pro bono.”

“Are you saying I'm not worth paying for?”

Tony meant to reply in an equally humorous tone but then he got caught in the joy in Bucky's grin and holy shit the man _was_ gorgeous, and _his_ , what the hell had he done to attract this man? He had to bite his tongue not to offer half his fortune and his hand in marriage for him right there and then.

Bucky seemed to sense the change in his mood because his grin softened into a small smile before disappearing from his lips completely, but not from his eyes. 

“Come on,” Tony said, and his voice was lower than it had any right to be. “I ordered food, then you can go to sleep.”

“Tony...?” The smile was replaced by worry.

“Let me take care of you?” It came out too quiet and too heartfelt but it was that or the proposal, so Tony was actually pretty fine with that.

“Yeah, alright.”

* * *

The next morning Tony insisted on taking Bucky home because he still looked tired, and Tony reveled in the fact the other man was _letting_ him do this for him, take care of him. He now even let Tony help him with the prosthetic upkeep, rubbing lotion on the stump, touching him when it was off, and that was huge, that was everything, and the fact Bucky came to him when he was tired, allowed the exhaustion to show, was making Tony feel stronger than ever. Needed. Appreciated. 

So he took Bucky home, because he was letting him, and Steve was at work anyway, so there was no risk... Except...

Tony shared a panicked glance with Bucky when they heard the unmistakable voice from the living room after opening the front door. He was about to sneak back out from the still open door when the distress in Steve's voice became obvious to both of them simultaneously, as the second look they shared was worried. They paused out of view, neither one obviously giving a shit about the fact they were eavesdropping. 

“..don't know, Peg – I thought I was... I thought I was helping, but they're _still_ unable to even be in the same room with each other and I don't know what to do! I'm afraid anything I'd do would make it worse! They're even avoiding me because they can't risk bumping into each other. I mean, I hated them beyond everything that night because it was as if they were doing it on _purpose_ , being so damn loud and I never wanted to know that much about either of them but I was _happy_ too because they both deserve so much and they could be so _good_ together, I know it, and now it's all ruined and it's all my fault. And I don't know what to do.”

He sounded so dejected Tony felt about the size of a quarter. It had been such a simple thing at first – and let's face it, they'd been pretty drunk – but they hadn't been drunk the next day, or any of the weeks after that. Sure, they had wanted to teach the meddling do-gooder a lesson, but it had soon transformed. At least for him. By the time he realized he was addicted to the other man, figured out it wasn't about sex anymore, it had already just become a habit. But then Bucky had agreed to date him, and was obviously as deep as him, so it didn't matter anymore, but hiding had been such an ingrained habit by then, they'd kept it up. 

And it wasn't like they were avoiding Steve but being so entwined in each other there wasn't as much time for Steve and fuck, what had they done? What had they put the best damn man they'd ever know through? Part of him wanted to barge in and plant one on Bucky right in front of Steve.

The next gaze they shared wasn't as much panicked as full of pain of recriminations. Tony swallowed. What if this was enough for Bucky to decide what they had wasn't worth it if the price was Steve feeling this bad? Maybe he should just go. He made the tiniest gesture towards leaving the apartment but then Bucky was pulling him towards his room.

“Shit, shit, shitshitshitshit,” Bucky was chanting as soon as he'd pulled the door closed behind them, hands in his hair, and Tony noted the improved motor control of his left fingers almost against his will. This was _so_ not the time.

“We've got to tell him. How are we going to tell him?” Tony demanded with yeah, maybe, all the panic in his voice.

“Tell him _what_? That we _lied_ to him for months! And for what? A stupid joke?” Bucky asked.

“No! We had a point. In the beginning. What he did was wrong.” Of this Tony was sure.

“Was it? Apparently he was right,” Bucky countered.

“Was he?” Tony asked.

“What do you mean?” Bucky's anger turned into uncertainty too fast for Tony's peace of mind but he knew better than to reach for him.

“Would it have worked if we hadn't figured out what he was doing?” he demanded.

Bucky paused to think it through, then, looking reluctant, shook his head.

“No, it wouldn't have,” Tony agreed. He was a genius, he'd run through the probabilities too many times in his head. “It would have made it worse – it might even have meant we'd never...” He chocked up. It was one thing to clinically go through possibilities and quite another to actually face what they would have meant in real life.

Bucky was shaking his head, like a reflex. “No. No, it wouldn't... couldn't have. I have to believe we would have gotten here eventually.”

“You have more faith in our ability to pull our heads out of our asses than I do.”

“No, I just, I can't face the possibility of _not_ having this, of still thinking of you as that arrogant, egotistical, strutting bag of air who encroached on my time with Steve. It's painful to imagine a world where I wouldn't have fallen in love with you.” 

Tony stopped breathing. It was such a fucking cliché but he did, and it almost felt like his heart stopped beating, but of course it didn't, the tiny machine within his chest making sure that it would never lose its rhythm. But he knew what it felt like, and it felt like that. Had the other man actually just said, just admitted that...

“Shit, I shouldn't have said that, should I? It was too soon, I'm sorry, I'm all over the place at the moment, I... just forget it.”

“No take backs,” Tony got out in a strangled voice before grabbing the front of Bucky's shirt to pull him closer for a desperate kiss. “Love you so much,” he muttered against his lips, licking them into his mouth, pressing their truth into his skin again and again, and maybe he was laughing or crying or all of the above, but this incredible man _loved_ him, and for the moment that was more important than the friend they'd hurt.

“Love you too,” Bucky was whispering against his neck now, in between licks and nips, and this wasn't what they were supposed to do at all, they hadn't had sex at the apartment Bucky and Steve shared since that first night because it wasn't safe, it wasn't...

They fell on the bed, still kissing desperately, hands tugging off clothes, needing to feel skin, to feel as close to the other as they could physically get... at least that was Tony's motivation, intimacy, even more than sex.

They stopped when they got their shirts off, kisses slowing down, hands stilling from the frantic stripping and pulling on clothes until they were just lying there, Tony on top, exchanging languid kisses and smiles.

“When did you know?” Tony asked, unable to keep the words in, because _data_ , but did he really even want to know?

“I think... I think when you touched my arm like it was a part of me.”

Whoa, wait, what? That was... that was back at the beginning.

“It...is a part of you?” he made it a question because had he tragically missed something and been ableist just when he'd tried his damnedest not to?

“Yeah, but no one had...”

“Wait, what, no, that's just not being a dick! You have to have higher standards than that!”

“Right, higher standards than a handsome genius who treats me like I'm worth the effort?”

“Stop, stop, stop, how can you... You're the most incredible, sexiest, handsomest man I've ever met and you think I'm worth your time and you think _I'm_...”

“Shut up, okay, just shut _up_ , I love you, okay, and you asked, and I'm not going to fight with you about which one of us is giving and which one is taking, okay? We can fight later. Let me bask now, bastard.”

“Basking. Great idea, let's commence basking immediately.”

“You are an idiot, but you're my idiot, and I refuse to let you ruin my glow.”

“See me basking!”

“Bucky?” They suddenly heard a sound from behind the door, followed by a knock. “Are you okay? I thought I heard...”

They only had time to share a glance that was less panicked now, and more resigned. Of course. They were half-naked in Bucky's bed, hands entwined around each other in a way that was more than sex, and there was no way to explain this or escape from discovery, because it wasn't like Tony was going to hide under the bed... so they might as well...

“Come on in, Steve,” Bucky called, and grinned, not moving one finger.

* * *

It's not like Steve had a list or anything, but he had given it a lot of thought. Really, a lot. So he knew exactly what he would say when his two friends finally got their heads out of their asses and realized they could be pretty damn good friends and even better boyfriends. He'd gone through all the scenarios in his head one time or another, so he had thought he was pretty well prepared for any possible situation.

But nowhere on that non-existent list was what he actually said when the moment arrived in reality. 

“You goddamn bastards!”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for Hot Mess](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8708569) by [Toothpudding](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toothpudding/pseuds/Toothpudding)
  * [[Banner] Hot Mess](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8712862) by [Knowmefirst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knowmefirst/pseuds/Knowmefirst)




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